Page 65 of Lost Kingdom

He silences. Swallows. Bested, he snarls in the back of his throat. “You’re being unnecessarily difficult.”

“Uh-huh. It’s my thing.”

“Doctor Emeri?” Minka taps on the glass door, firming her lips when I glance up. “You’re holding us up.”

“I’ve gotta go. Talk to you later.”

“Okay, I?—”

But I hang up and shove my phone into my back pocket. Swinging into the office, I stride across and grab my coffee before it goes cold. “Sorry, Chief. I’m here.”

“Start the rounds.” She delegates to me, though God knows why. She knows more than I do about what’s happening inside this building today. She meanders back to her desk and plops down until her chair squeaks. “Current loads first,” she instructs. “Then I’ll assign the six from the bay.”

“Yes, Chief. Uh…” I face our crowd and remember back to Friday, since I was awarded an entire, blissful weekend off with no after-hours call outs. “My slab is clear. I tied up my last DB, MV accident: internal decapitation. I’ve handed the case back to the detectives, and I believe they’re pursuing manslaughter charges. I have cases pended, awaiting tox, but other than those, I’m ready for something new.”

“Good. You can have two of the six.” She gestures toward Cara. “Doctor Flynn?”

“I was on call this weekend and caught a few that robbed me of my sleep. Break and enter gone wrong. Homicide cops are on the case and awaiting my final reports.”

“COD?”

“GSW to the face. Made a damn mess, blew out the back and sprayed gray matter all over the kitchen. I spent a good long while scooping up the bits with a dustpan and broom. Body has been put away for now. Obviously no one is permitted to visit with the decedent. It’s too traumatizing for the family?—”

“You don’t get a say, Doctor Flynn. If the DB’s next of kin wants to see, they get to see.”

“But—”

“You can warn them of what’s coming, but you can’t stop them. This is their right. What else came in on the weekend?”

Doctor Flynn is only a few years older than her chief. She’s a solid tech with a track record of showing up for the dead. Which means she drops her chin in respect and acceptance of her boss’ word. “We had two vagrants turn up in the early hours of Saturday morning. Both mid-forties. Unmarried. Both male. They were sleeping rough and froze to death a few hours before they were discovered by uniformed officers. Winter is harsh, and December is the worst for it. Shelters are full, especially this close to Christmas, and these two had no-where else to go.”

“Autopsy showed?”

“Besides the freezing to death part? Both were reasonably healthy. Livers showed signs of abuse, and their stomachs were alarmingly empty, but heart and other vital organs appeared strong. Lungs were clear, which rules out infection. No pneumonia. No sickness. No brain bleeds. No physical ailments I could pinpoint that would lead to natural or unnatural death. Neither were bleeding. Neither were bruised except for the standard, expected scuffings you’d expect of someone living on the street. Both had lice, but they, too, were frozen when I brought them into my autopsy suite. Ultimately, my decedents froze to death. No foul play detected.”

“Good. Is your slab clear?”

“I’m finalizing reports for my weekend cases, but yeah, I’m clear.”

“You can have two of the bay bodies, and I’ll take the final two. That’s sixbetween us, and we’ll see what we find by the end of the day.” Minka reclines in her chair and looks at the next tech. “Doctor Kirk. I know your Friday night was interesting. Tell me how your ‘fireworks up a construction worker’s ass’ case ended.”

Poor kid. He blushes hotter than I ever have. “Y-yes Chief. Autopsy is written, case is pended, awaiting tox results. I can reasonably assume the decedent was under the influence of something, considering the nature of his death.”

“I would normally pull you up for making assumptions on the job. But I, too, would need something fun and hallucinogenic to convince me to stick pyrotechnics up my backside. Chase the lab for your results and complete the report.” Finally, she grabs her beloved ruler and stands. “Let’s get those bodies upstairs and begin.”

21

TIM

LOYALTY

“Last chance to come get your boy.”

I glance up from the beer I’m mid-pour and stop on a pair of angry, black eyes and the thick jacket covering most of his bulk from the half dozen cops he walks among. I don’t know the guy standing in front of me. Never seen his face before in my life. And yet, I know exactly who he represents.

“Mr. Booth is experiencing a particularly stressful day today,” he grumbles. “And he’s collecting debts, whether they’re due or not. We’re done listening to Duane Emeri’s bullshit excuses.”

“Duane has no debt.” I reach across, viper-fast, and grab the dude’s wrist before he can pull back. “I’ve paid them. Which means you’re a stupid man for stepping onto my property and slinging threats. Did no one warn you what would happen if you did that?”

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